The Tone of Surprise
by SkinnyAnkles
Summary: Ron and Hermione must accompany Harry on his search to destroy Voldemort while struggling with their feelings for one another at the same time. Can they come together and comfort each other? Rated M for romantic scenes in future chapters, and language.
1. Interruptions

**Hi! After a little while of reading loads of amazing Ron/Hermione stories and being too scared of posting my own, I've decided to take the plunge. I hope you enjoy this, I intend for this story to become a multi-chaptered story, and obviously I would be really grateful if you could tell me what you think. I'm British so I hope no Americans think I'm spelling anything wrong- if you do spot something, it will probably just be our way of spelling a word, sorry! Thanks for reading! PS This chapter is set at the start of _Deathly Hallows, _when Hermione arrives at The Burrow. Harry's still at the Dursleys' at this point.  
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**_SkinnyAnkles_  
**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter, as my version would probably have included a lot more Ron and Hermione romance than JK Rowling's absolute masterpiece!_  
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It was with a quickening heartbeat and an increasingly dry mouth that Hermione Granger began wiping her parent's memories. Watching herself disappear from countless photographs- leaving empty frames or photos of just her parents- she willed herself not to cry. It was for the best, she told herself. Of course it would work. Of course she could reverse it. But she wouldn't, not now. Her parents were safe- or would be when they left for Australia, at least.

She couldn't hang around and watch. She wasn't due at The Burrow until seven, and it wasn't even five yet, but she could go, couldn't she? She was all packed, with just the beaded bag. She looked fine, not that she was bothered particularly, Ron saw her looking worse-for-wear all the time, mainly after a late night studying in the library. At the end of sixth year, after the whole Lavender disaster, he had taken to checking in on her, assisting her. Of course, they'd always done Prefect rounds together, had fun chatting; but once or twice, they had stayed up talking all night, curled up in the common room, unable to sleep. She longed for those days but realised they were in the past, that she would never get them back.

Checking the clock one last time and peering back through the door at her parents, who were speaking to a travel agent already about Australia, she closed the door quietly and began walking along the road, heading for the deserted alleyway she could use to Disapparate unseen.

Ron was waiting inside The Burrow. He knew it was five o'clock and Hermione wasn't due for another two hours, he knew. But what if…? He wanted to be ready, if she was going to be early.

He stood up to check his hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time. It was a lot better these days- no longer bright orange, it had gone a slightly more subdued shade and he had finally convinced his Mum to let him grow it to his chin. He was quite keen on the new style, even if it earned him a bit of ribbing from Fred and George. He knew Hermione would like it, too, she had always admired Bill's hair. Always admired Bill, full stop. He hoped- no, there was no way Hermione would go for Bill. He was a bit too… well, he didn't know. He just wasn't quite the right person for Hermione.

There was suddenly a commotion downstairs, he heard his Mum squeal and Ginny yell- without thinking, Ron had begun bounding down the stairs, wand raised, expecting to find scenes of devastation. Instead, he was knocked sideways by someone with a great cloud of fluffy brown hair. _Hermione._

Hermione felt at home, all of a sudden, more so than she had been just minutes before in her own clean, white townhouse filled with pictures of her and her family. She was with Ron, with Ron's family, but they felt like hers, just as much as her own parents. His arms around her waist felt wonderful, his neck smelled amazing. She had to stop herself from getting carried away. Slowly, she pulled back to look at him.

"Bloody hell, are you smaller than you were three weeks ago?"

"No, but you're certainly taller," she laughed, her hands wrapping around his upper arms as she stared up at him. "How big are you now?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, implying a euphemism, and she smacked him on the arm, rolling her eyes. "I'm six three, midget."

"Wow. That's impressive. Are you taller than Bill now?"

There she goes with Bill again, thought Ron, unable to become annoyed with her as her eyes sparkled at him. "Er, yeah. Got an inch on him now, officially the tallest member of the Weasley family. My claim to fame at last!"

"Oh, Ron," sighed his mother. "You're more famous than any of us."

"Not as famous as me," Ginny teased, smiling at Fred and George who were making their way in through the front door.

"That's only for going out with the Chosen One," Fred laughed, hugging his little sister.

Ginny laughed along with them, but Hermione couldn't help but notice her sad eyes. Harry's decision had been noble, but she could tell it was breaking Ginny's heart.

After greeting Fred and George, Hermione had nudged Ron. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, of course," he replied straightaway, "I'll distract Mum, make your way up."

Hermione excused herself quietly, making her way up the stairs on the long climb to Ron's room. No wonder he was so fit, she thought. This climb was enough to make anyone strong.

Ron's room was just as small as she had remembered it, with posters all over the room. Mainly of the Chudley Cannons, but Hermione noticed some new pictures above his mirror. They made her smile.

There were pictures of his parents, his brothers and sisters, even a photo of him and Harry taken last year that Hermione didn't remember at all. Right there, in the middle, however, was a collection of photos that made Hermione's heart throb a little. Not just one picture of her and Ron, but four separate pictures.

The first was a photo of the two of them in Hogsmeade, on their first ever visit. Hermione blushed to think of the two of them outside the Shrieking Shack, dancing around their feelings already at age thirteen. In the picture, they both laughed slightly awkwardly, left alone without Harry for the first time. Even so, Hermione noticed the way she stared at Ron, the way he blushed slightly. The second picture was even more enchanting.

Taken in Grimmauld Place, which admittedly wasn't the best setting for pictures, Ron appeared stunned both by Ginny, who surprised him with the camera, and by Hermione herself. She had grabbed him by the waist and ducked under his arm to appear in the picture, and the moving image showed him wrapping his arms around her head in a jokey headlock.

The third was a picture only of her, again in Grimmauld Place, pulling her hair out from its topknot which prevented it from getting in the way of her work. She had an almost blissful look on her face as she stared up at the camera, and she suddenly remembered that it was Ron behind the camera, Ron whose eyes she stared into with such love.

There was a noise behind her as Ron came into the room, joining her next to the mirror as she studied the last photo.

"When was this taken?" she asked him, pointing to an image of the two of them in the Gryffindor common room sometime last year.

"Oh, bit after me and Lavender split up I think."

"Ah, so we were talking again. Will you let me make copies of these?"

"Of course I will. Why don't you do it now, might not get another chance for a while."

She took out her wand and muttered, "Geminio," watching copies of the photos drift into her hands. "I'll have to find somewhere to put them."

"I might be able to help," he answered mysteriously.

"What do you mean?"

"Wait for the wedding," he told her, making his way over to his bed.

She joined him, somewhat cautiously, pulling the photos out again.

"Sometimes I forget that we're just normal friends, you know."

"What do you mean?" his head snapped up.

"Well, with the whole Voldemort thing weighing down on us, I forget that we're just seventeen, just normal teenagers."

He considered for a moment and smiled, shifting himself into a comfy position, laid back against the pillows. "You're far from normal, Hermione."

She let out a shriek of protest, turning to hit him. Instead this just resulted in disaster as she fell off his single bed.

"Wow, that was pathetic," Ron grinned down at her, simultaneously offering his hand to help her up. Instead of her seated position, however, she was pulled down next to him on the bed, her legs intertwined with his. Ron propped himself up to look down at her, and Hermione felt a quickening of her pulse which both terrified and thrilled her. If they were going to- oh, she didn't think she could stand it.

Ron's hand travelled from his hair to Hermione's. "Your hair's a bit smoother."

"I know, Ginny gave me this shampoo stuff that Fred and George made by accident. That reminds me, I must ask them if they could do it again for me, do you think they would?"

"Oh yeah, of course," Ron added, a little too late, curling a strand of her hair around his fingers. Hermione looked up into his eyes and felt she could get lost in them. He even seemed to be leaning closer to her. God, he had beautiful lips-

BANG.

The door opened and suddenly, Fred and George were at the door, looking at them in shock. Hermione and Ron sat up, immediately, quickly running their hands through their hair. Hermione almost dropped the photographs. "Shit, Ron! You finally get the balls to make a move-"

"-and we ruin it," finished George. "Sorry, Ronniekins."

Ron looked embarrassed and told Hermione not to listen to them, that they were making stuff up. Hermione looked uncomfortable and started to ask Fred and George about the shampoo.

Just like that, their moment was gone.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Ron and Hermione sat opposite each other, and Hermione could have sworn that he was knocking his leg into hers on purpose. She responded with a soft kick under the table, and this escalated until Fred complained about them playing "footsie" and made them both blush. Mrs Weasley looked oddly delighted at this news, as did Ginny, who was making frantic eyes movements in Hermione's direction.

It was as they rose from the table that Ron realised he and Hermione had not actually talked, properly, in his room. She had said, "Can we talk?" but they had become distracted by his photographs and then their- it excited Ron to even say it- almost-kiss. He was more than encouraged by this little development- Hermione hadn't looked shocked, or disgusted, merely curious and, dare he say it, keen. The thought of her wanting him was far too exciting for Ron, and he barely noticed her tip-toeing up the stairs.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked his brothers as he set up his chess set. He had been hoping that Hermione would give him a game, he did so like to beat her.

"Oh, she went upstairs," replied Ginny, flopping down into an armchair. "To get a book or something."

"What a surprise," muttered Ron, arranging his pawns in a neat line.

Hermione was back downstairs soon enough, but she didn't look good. In fact, she looked positively terrified. Ron made room for her on the oversized armchair and she tucked her feet under his legs, keen for the physical contact. She did indeed have a book, a rather formidable-looking tome with peeling gold letters on the front spelling out an almost undecipherable title. Hermione seemed to get it however, as she opened it up and resumed reading, looking completely absorbed. Ron decided not to disturb her and instead enrolled Ginny as his chess partner.

Ginny was even worse at chess than Hermione, and Ron couldn't help but notice her worried expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm just worried."

"What about?"

"What not about, Ron? There's a bloody war on, you know."

"I know that," he told his younger sister, "but everyone's worried about that. Who are you worrying about in particular?"

"Well, Dad at this precise moment. He should have been here fifteen minutes ago. And Harry, of course," she added coolly.

"Of course," murmured Ron, somewhat ashamed of himself for forgetting his other best friend.

Hermione spoke up. "When do we hear about the plans for Harry's rescue?" she asked.

"Oh, tomorrow, I think," replied Ron when no-one else did. "Kingsley, Lupin, Bill, Dad and Mad-Eye are coming over to discuss the plans."

"Isn't Tonks?" Hermione and Ginny both asked at once.

"Oh yeah, forgot about Tonks," said Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes and closed her book as Ginny stared, flabbergasted at Ron's sudden "Checkmate."

"Come on then, Ron, I'll play you. You need a real opponent."

"Thanks, Hermione!" laughed Ginny, joke-incredulously.

"No problem, Gin. I need to teach him a lesson. I will beat him this time, I can feel it."

"Yeah, yeah, problem with you is you're all talk and no action."

"Am I indeed?" she asked him, eyes glinting, as she made her first move.

The banter continued throughout the game, which even Ron conceded had been pretty tough for him, unusually. When they looked up, everyone else had slipped off to bed.

"I didn't hear them go," Hermione said, staring around her.

"Neither did I," Ron added. "Shall we play again?"

"No, let's just chat," she told him, sliding off her seat to lie in front of the fire.

Ron was quite sure he had never seen anything so wonderful in his whole life. Hermione was stretched out, her back arched, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she enjoyed the heat from the fire. He tried not to watch her breasts, which looked rather amazing, but found himself getting hotter and hotter. Why had she decided to wear a vest top today? It was ridiculously low-cut, compared to the jumpers and sweatshirts she usually favoured. Her shorts hugged her perfectly too, and Ron admired her shape, not for the first time.

She looked up at him, and Ron realised he had been caught staring.

_Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God, _thought Hermione. He's looking at me! Like a _girl! _The thought thrilled her, and she revelled in the feeling of being desired. Of course, she had known when she put on the vest top and shorts that he would be staring. Obviously, she had told Ginny that it was because of the heat, but now she couldn't even pretend as she edged nearer to the fire, desperate for heat.

Of course, she'd rather it was coming from somewhere else. Ron, namely, who was now staring at her with glazed-over eyes. If ever she needed confirmation of his lust, it was here, right now.

Something told Hermione to jump in, but another part of her to hold back. Surely now, with their lives on the line, it was not the right time to begin something- anything- with Ron?

"I'm sorry," Ron suddenly stammered, out of the blue.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" she asked him, blinking as she sat up, raising her arms above her head in a move she knew would get him just that little bit more excited.

"Oh, er- nothing," he muttered quietly.

"What?" she asked again.

"You know, staring at you."

"Oh, I don't mind," she smiled slowly at him, trying to be a bit seductive. That part of her that screamed to stop was diminishing by the minute and she felt her heartbeat quicken and pulse race.

He was staring at her in utter amazement. Slowly, he slipped to the floor and sat beside her, towering over her even as they sat next to each other. Hermione felt the air crackle with sexual electricity and her skin felt clammy- she was burning up, but the sweat on her skin felt cold.

He felt hot too, the hairs on their skin standing up, touching lightly. Ron was radiating heat next to her, and she felt on the edge of something momentous.

"Hermione?"

Ron croaked, his voice low and gruff.

"Yeah?" hers was unnaturally high.

"If anything happens, during this war, I just want you to know that I'll take care of you."

She was touched. "And I'll take care of you."

The moment would have been sweet had Ron's eyes not been staring on in hunger, with complete desire and unadulterated lust. She thought she preferred it this way.

His fingers traced light patterns over the back of her hand, and the feelings building all over her body were almost too much to bear. She had to do something. Ron's hand was travelling up the length of her body, tickling and teasing. He softly stroked her hair and caressed her cheek. Hermione knew something was going to happen. As she turned her face to meet his, their eyes met and Ron barely recognised the eyes of his best friend, which had dilated with pure fire and lust. He leaned in, knowing it was now or never, and paused only slightly before brushing his lips against hers for a second.

That kiss was more than enough to excite Hermione, who leaned in again hungrily. Before she even got a chance to pull Ron closer, however, Mr Weasley walked through the door, humming to himself.

Hermione felt the magic dissipate and her heart throbbed with longing. Tonight was not the night. She knew it, he knew it- but it seemed that they wouldn't be able to resist each other for much longer.

**Hope you enjoyed that! If you did it would be wonderful for you to review and let me know. Don't worry, there may be fewer interruptions next time! **

**_SkinnyAnkles_  
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	2. Declarations

**Hello! I am so sorry that this took forever, it's quite embarrassing really! Hopefully I will be able to post an update a little quicker next time. For the moment, though, I hope this chapter satisfies your Ron/Hermione romance needs. This is a fairly slow chapter but it will certainly help our two protagonists to progress towards being the fantastic couple we know they will be in the future! Once again, thank you _so much _for all of the wonderful reviews, and to all of the lovely people who follow this story or have added it to their favourites. I am blown away by the amount of support this story received, especially as it is not the most original plot line ever devised on this site! Thank you, thank you! I am so grateful, and you are the people I write for, as well as myself. Thank you very much!**

_**SkinnyAnkles**_

**Disclaimer:** **None of the characters in this story belong to me, they are all the property of the wonderful JK Rowling.**

The first thing Ron noticed when he joined the table the next morning was that Hermione wasn't there.

Although Kingsley, Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye were already present, and Bill and Fleur were currently greeting Mrs Weasley, he could tell immediately that his best friend was missing, and he found it unnerving. Hermione Granger was always on time for everything, and especially important things such as meetings to discuss rescue plans.

He considered going upstairs to find her, but decided that could be loaded with potential awkwardness and instead took a seat at the table, greeting Lupin and Tonks.

The small talk continued as they all waited for the arrival of four more people: Fred, George, Hagrid and Mundungus.

"Why's he coming?" Ron asked, wondering how the crook could possibly help them to rescue Harry.

"Well, the slimy bastard's had a great idea," Mad-Eye told Ron. "I'll have him explain when he finally turns up."

Just at that moment, however, Hermione's arrival stopped Ron from asking the question that had been on the tip of his tongue.

She walked into the kitchen, her hair spectacularly curly, falling down her back to reveal what could only be described as a stunning, brilliant white sundress. It was so far removed from Hermione's usual uniform of jeans and t-shirts that Ron had to take a second look. His mind was suddenly, embarrassingly blank as he struggled to generate any speech which didn't involve the words Hermione, Naked and Now.

She seemed to realise the effect she was having on him as she sat down in the chair next to him and blushed. "I'm sorry, you weren't all waiting for me, were you?"

"No, not at all, Hermione," Kingsley smiled, his slow, calm voice reassuring her. "We're still waiting for Fred and George, Hagrid and Mundungus."

"Oh, why? I thought it was only, well, us," Hermione gestured around the room at everyone now seated.

"There's been a change of plan. We can't take Harry by Side-Along Apparition, because he still has-"

"Ah, the Trace!" Hermione clapped a hand to her head. "Why didn't I realise?"

"None of us did, it's just with the Ministry being infiltrated, the plans have to change."

Just at that moment, Fred and George arrived, distracting everyone with jokes and laughter. When they spotted Ron and Hermione sitting next to each other, Fred immediately began waggling his eyebrows at Ron, who turned pink as he looked away pointedly. Hermione noticed too, colour rising in her cheeks as she hurriedly struck up a conversation with Tonks.

Finally, Hagrid and Mundungus arrived, the former berating the latter for an apparent misdeed committed ten years previously. This provided great amusement to everyone gathered until Mad-Eye grew even more impatient and insisted they call the meeting to order. While Ron and Hermione were keen to rescue Harry and get on with hunting Horcruxes, they were still able to laugh at the comic relief provided by the others. Ginny, on the other hand, normally so lively and loud, was positively silent, sat nervously chewing her nails as she thought about what Harry was doing at that precise moment. Hermione noticed her friend's sadness and felt guilty for being frustrated at Ron. At least he was with her- at least he had kissed her in the last week. Ginny would only see Harry for a little while before waving him goodbye again. Hermione had Ron next to her, his beautiful eyes to look into any time she felt like it.

As the meeting wore on, Ron struggled to keep up with Mundungus' new plan, so distracted he was by Hermione, with her beautiful hair and captivating brown eyes. Every time she came in with another, perfectly articulated point, Ron was glad of the excuse to stare at her without looking like a complete idiot. In fact, he was unaware that most of the people in the room had long grown used to his and Hermione's constant furtive glances and awkwardly flirty exchanges. Ron's staring wasn't new, and he had nothing to worry about.

Hermione, too, was painfully aware of Ron's presence next to her, his big frame all-too-noticeable. It was a struggle to concentrate on the meeting, but she was determined to do so, for Harry's sake. Well, more for Ginny than Harry, to be honest, as the younger girl looked almost ill, her bright red hair rendering her skin pale and unhealthy, her nervous look so unusually in contrast with her confident personality. Hermione wondered whether Ginny knew about the Horcrux hunt, or at least knew that Harry would not be returning to Hogwarts this year. She felt for her friend, without someone who meant so much to her for such a long, unspecified amount of time.

However, the older girl had more important things to concentrate on if she wanted to make Ginny happy for at least a small amount of time this summer. Mad-Eye was becoming increasingly frustrating with his complete refusal to listen to anyone else, and Hermione felt the need to speak up. However, as she started forward, something made her stop. Ron's hand was resting on her leg.

"Hermione," he murmured under his breath, "There's no point. We might as well go along with him, rather than causing a scene."

Normally, she would have argued back, but the heat coming from Ron's hand was warming other parts of her body besides her thigh and it was making it rather difficult for her to process rational thoughts, let alone construct a decent argument. Ron must have noticed the effect he was having on her, surely? She felt embarrassed at the very thought, and even more so when she realised almost everyone was looking at the pair of them, both breathing rather heavily and looking into each other's eyes.

Mrs Weasley in particular looked worried, as she saw the intense look passing between her youngest son and the girl he loved. While she had wanted Hermione as a daughter-in-law since the day they'd met and she'd seen the way Ron looked at the bossy young girl, Molly had first-hand experience of being young and in love during a war, and it wasn't something she would wish on anyone. Bill and Fleur were already going through with their wedding, against her will, and while she doubted that Ron and Hermione would be announcing an engagement, she didn't want them to feel the same burden of death in wartime that she and Arthur had felt all those years ago.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, were busy trying to regain their composure as the meeting resumed. Ron, pleased with his newfound power, was determined to find another way to touch Hermione, to see if he could elicit the same effect. He had never seen her lose her focus so spectacularly, and the thought of what else he could make her do with just his hands gave him tingles all over. Of course, being Ron, this was also tinged with insecurity. Maybe she thought he was just being weird, and was in fact disgusted, rather than thrilled? Maybe her apparent romantic interest in him was merely a result of him being the only available male in her life? Deep down, he knew his insecurities were just that- unfounded doubts. However, this was Hermione Granger and his first-hand experience had taught him that she could be as unpredictable as she wanted when it suited her. Her spectacular punching of Draco Malfoy in third year was his favourite example of this, and one of the main tales he intended to relay to their children when the time came. He was determined that it would.

Suddenly, something Mad-Eye had said snapped Ron out of his reverie, and he immediately tensed up. "So, who's going to volunteer to help?"

Everyone's hands went up automatically, with the exception of Mundungus and Mrs Weasley. While Mad-Eye shot the former a threatening look and he raised his hand, the latter spoke up, "I believe that I will be a hindrance, rather than a help, to Harry. I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind."

"We don't, darling," her husband reassured her.

"No, Molly," Kingsley added, as the rest of the table agreed. "We'd all feel far better if we knew you were waiting here with a lovely meal ready for us all!"

"Thank you, Kingsley," she smiled at the Auror. However, her sweet, demure tone didn't last for long as she made eye contact with Ginny. "You are not going, young lady, and don't even think about arguing."

Ginny's face came alive as she became suddenly indignant. "He's my- friend, too! I care about him as much as anyone, and I'm just as capable! I'm as capable as Ron-"

"Ron is of age, it's different." Mr Weasley began wearily, taking his daughter's hand. She snatched it away angrily.

As Ginny's brothers became involved in the argument, Hermione felt glad that she would never have this sort of protection.

In the end, Ginny became resigned to the fact that she couldn't go when Kingsley took her aside and told her that if she went, Harry would be unable to concentrate for worrying about her. After a minor struggle, she gave in and retreated to her room, where Hermione was sure she would find the redhead crying herself to sleep in frustration.

However, just as Hermione relaxed slightly, Ron started up again, speaking only to her. "I don't think you should go either, Hermione."

"What?" she looked at him, her face painted with disbelief.

"I don't think you should go. What if something happens-"

"Ronald Weasley, I don't know how you dare!" Hermione was aware that her voice was rising and everyone was staring, but she was so aggravated by Ron's machismo that she couldn't help it. "Where would you be without me by your side in battle situations? Dead, most probably! That's so rich, coming from you!"

Ron stared at Hermione, dumbfounded by her response. Was that what she thought of him? Becoming suddenly aware of the fact that everyone was following their argument carefully, he took hold of Hermione's hand and pulled her into the sitting room. She followed him angrily, attempting to wrench her hand from his strong grasp. When they reached the (slightly) more private area, she rounded on him again.

"Ronald, you may have some archaic belief that women are not as capable as men-"

"I don't-"

"But let me tell you, I am just as capable as you, perhaps even more so!" The anger in her voice was almost unbearable. He had to do something to make it better.

"Hermione, I know you're more capable than me. Far more fucking capable," his voice was slow and sure, and she looked embarrassed in the aftermath of her outburst. "But I don't know how I'd go on without you. I really don't. What if something happens? I can't bloody live without you, Hermione, I'd die first."

She was taken aback. This was the sort of declaration that she'd told herself would never come from Ron's mouth, the kind of thing that existed only in her daydreams. To hear it was incredible and touching and _humiliating_ all at once.

"Ron, I don't think I'm far more "fucking" capable than you, not really." Ron laughed at her attempt to swear, something she didn't do very often. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I don't know how I'd live without you either- I would die- but Harry is what's important right now, and I can't be the woman waiting at home for you. I'm never going to be that woman, that _wife-_" Ron blushed at the implications- "But I want you to know that you mean so much to me. If it was my choice, I wouldn't let you go. But that's what you want so I'll have to support you."

Ron looked at her, completely shocked by this turn of events. Not two minutes ago she had been ready to tear him apart, and all of a sudden she was almost declaring her love for him. It was a bit too much, and words weren't working, at least not for him. No words could describe the way he'd felt for six years. Or maybe they could, but if it was a choice between speaking to Hermione and possibly humiliating himself or touching Hermione and possibly humiliating himself, he'd rather have his hands on her gorgeous body, in her beautiful hair. Instead, he showed Hermione what he thought by wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her with warmth, and (he hoped) obvious love.

Hermione was relieved. Ron felt something of what she felt! He would die without her! The revelations soothed her heart somewhat, making her feel wanted and needed. It was a sudden realisation that she needed this more than anything. More than rescuing Harry. More than her parents being with her. It was selfish, and a little childish, but Hermione suddenly realised that the only way she would get through this war would be with Ron's support, because he was the only one who understood exactly how it felt to be Harry's friend, an outsider in a world that was much bigger than any of them. And yet, she still wondered whether or not Ron felt the same way. Maybe this was purely sexual for him, and the words were meaningless. Maybe it was just because she was the only girl in his life who wasn't a) Lavender Brown or b) a member of his family. Which would be weird and illegal, she admitted to her barmy inner voice. _But, _the voice in her head spoke aloud, _if it was, would he be holding you like this?_

Hermione had to answer no, as Ron's hands rested on her waist, his head on her shoulder. He was almost leaning on her (not the most comfortable position, admittedly, as Ron's lanky frame belied an impressive weight) but although Hermione was feeling her skin prickle with sexual heat, there was nothing demeaning or demanding in Ron's pose, and she felt thankful for this, even if it did mean they remained only friends, for the time being at least.

Their kiss swam to the forefront of her mind but she pushed it away, breaking apart from Ron and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"We will get through this, Ron. Me and you. Us. We will, if we have each other."

Ron nodded, and as he leaned in, Hermione thought he might kiss her again, but he simply planted his lips onto her forehead and led her from the room.

Once again, their moment had passed. Hermione, however, felt no sadness, merely an inexplicable pleasure at being the woman Ron would die for, the woman Ron needed. She could settle for that, for the moment at least.

**Thanks very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, comments are much appreciated. I think I replied to every review personally but if I missed you out, send me a message and let me know! Thanks again!**

**_SkinnyAnkles_  
**


	3. Complications

**Hello again! (If anyone's still reading!) Once again I apologise that this update has taken such a long time, I can only hope that I will learn from my mistakes and will begin to publish more often. As a feeble excuse, I hope that you agree with me that quality is more important than quantity, and while I don't profess to be an excellent writer on the level of some of the incredible people on this site, I think that my readers would prefer a longer, more meaty chapter less often, as opposed to short, unsatisfying updates every week. If you would not, please let me know! Again, thank you very much for the incredibly useful reviews and feedback left last time, I can only hope that you care enough to continue doing the same as I appreciate it so much, and really, reviews do keep me going as a Fanfiction writer. I hope you enjoy Chapter Three!**

**_SkinnyAnkles_  
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**Disclaimer: The characters and plotlines used in this story are the property of JK Rowling, their wonderful inventor, and have nothing to do with me, however much I wish this was not true!**

There were flashes of light everywhere, shouts through the darkness. Hermione Granger knew nothing but Kingsley and the Thestral she was precariously balanced upon, and the thought rather terrified her. Her right hand clinging to the purple cloak the big Auror was swathed in, her left holding her wand, she attempted to train her eyes in the darkness and began to make out some whirling shapes not far ahead. It was like Mad-Eye had said- the Death Eaters would expect Harry to be with the more experienced Aurors. They had obviously already visited Moody and Mundungus, and now their natural course of progression was to come for her and Kingsley.

The situation was made even more strange by the fact that she had to get used to a new body as well. While Harry was someone she loved very dearly, a desire to share his shape had never featured particularly highly on her wish list. Nevertheless, she had to do it, even if the short hair made her neck cold and his muscular chest felt like a very odd replacement of her soft, squishy one. The whole thing was a whirlwind, totally unlike anything she'd ever done before. And, despite the numerous times she had come face-to-face with vicious supporters of Voldemort, she had never done it without either Harry or Ron beside her.

Kingsley was safe, and protective, and she was completely certain that he would save her no matter what, but it wasn't quite the same without her best friends. She tried not to think about them, and instead attempted to focus on the people in front of her, the true monsters and dangers.

The next half an hour or so was a complete blur to Hermione. She shot off curses and spells left right and centre, aiming specifically and carefully. The hooded figures were creepy enough but nothing could have prepared Hermione for the sight of Voldemort flying in mid-air with nothing to support him. Even Kingsley recoiled slightly, although he did quickly recover. They both worked diligently, trying to fight, yet Voldemort discarded them quickly. The eerie silence following the departure of all their pursuers was extremely odd. Hermione was suddenly struck by the realisation that she was clinging rather closely to Kingsley. While he didn't seem to mind, she began to feel rather uncomfortable and slowly started to extricate herself. The Auror turned around to offer her a reassuring smile.

"We're heading to Moody's, Hermione, it'll not be long. Two minutes at the most."

"Right," she smiled back. "I hope everyone else made it."

"So do I," he said. "So do I."

The Burrow was a hive of activity. As they returned, George was being tended to in the lounge. Mr Weasley returned, his face stony and his anger evident as he and his wife tended their son. Harry and Ginny joined Hagrid, Lupin, Kingsley and herself in the yard, watching the skies for the return of Bill and Ron. Ron... where was he?

There was an almost physical hole in her heart where Ron should have been, and only the fact that she was hemmed in between the huge figure of Hagrid and the reassuring one of Lupin kept her from falling to pieces. At the slightest sound she turned, dying for him to appear, hoping he would turn up, smiling, joking, laughing at her whole-heartedly. Yet he didn't, and the minutes stretched and stretched until she could barely cope any longer.

And then, finally, a broom could be seen overhead. It was headed straight for the ground-

"It's them!" she screamed, completely ignoring Tonks as she ran at Ron, who appeared relieved at the sight of his two friends. Hermione could only vaguely hear the Metamorphmagus praising him, Ron's arms around her back and her arms around his neck the only things she could easily focus on.

That night, The Burrow, usually so full of cheer and joy, was dismal and depressed, the death of Mad-Eye ever-present in their minds. Harry went to bed first, pouring himself another glass of Firewhiskey before heading up the stairs to Ron's room alone. Ginny followed, and Hermione wondered whether she would speak to him up there, or whether she would simply lie in her own bed, wallowing in a mixture of relief and sadness. She hoped the former, despite the distress it might cause them both. She was not naïve enough to believe that the three of them surviving the Horcrux hunt was likely. In fact, she knew there was a very slim chance of that happening, and wanted Harry and Ginny to enjoy the time they had.

Ron showed few signs of wanting to go to bed. In fact, he stayed up past anyone else, and Hermione was reluctant to leave him on his own. Ron had never been the best drinker, tending to get maudlin after one too many, and left to his own devices would likely get even more miserable. Mrs Weasley had bid them both a hesitant goodnight, whispering to Hermione as she went, "Get him up to bed soon, sweetheart, you have another heavy day tomorrow."

Holding back a sigh at the thought of more cleaning and scrubbing of the already practically spotless Burrow, she patted Ron on the back and drew up a stool at the foot of his armchair. He was dozing quietly in his seat, empty glass dangling from his hand. She carefully tugged it from his grasp and set it on the hearth, gently pulling off her own shoes and flexing her sore feet. Ron stirred.

"Wha's happening? Where's... Harry?" he focused in on Hermione, who smiled up at him slowly.

"He's upstairs, in bed. He was really tired, Ron."

"I know, I know," the tall boy considered for a moment. "I'm tired too."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Hermione laughed conspiratorially. "Want to go to bed?"

Ron looked taken-aback at her words, and she coloured bright pink. "I mean- you know- your own bed- with Harry. Well not with Harry, obviously... just you. In your bed."

Her stuttering was adorable and Ron laughed at her. "Where else would I go, Hermione?" he teased, enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"Nowhere, obviously," she huffed, regaining her composure slightly.

"Aw, don't get upset with me," he pouted, reaching out and touching her shoulder softly.

She shrugged him off and stood up, heading to the kitchen.

There were plates, glasses and empty bottles in huge piles all over the kitchen. The scene was reminiscent of a party, rather than their gathering- which was effectively a wake. Hermione pulled her wand from her jeans and began tidying the room, setting the dishes to wash themselves in the huge Belfast sink and decanting the remaining Ogden's and Firewhiskey into crystal glasses for her and Ron, all thoughts of sobering up gone from her mind.

It could be months until they left for their Horcrux hunt, but it would most likely be merely a few days, and Hermione was not unintelligent. She knew there would be few opportunities for drinking and making merry whilst alone with Ron and Harry, and she wanted to take the chance to enjoy herself while she could. Well, this would be the reason she would give to Harry if he questioned her in the morning, which was unlikely. Really, she just needed a drink, especially after her hard night.

Ron was still sat in his favourite armchair, half-asleep. He looked up as she perched back on her stool and handed him the wine glass. "Thanks, Hermione," he smiled sleepily, looking between her and the glass in surprise.

She took a deep sip of the Firewhiskey. It still burned the back of her throat, but went down a little more smoothly than the first time. Ron laughed at her. "On the hard stuff, are we?" he joked, setting his own glass down on the hearth.

She smiled back, stretching her arm above her head and shrugging off her cardigan. "Well, I don't like Ogden's so this is really it... who knows what it'll do to me in the morning."

Her brown eyes fixed onto his blue and he rolled them in response to her statement. "That's you isn't it, always worried about the consequences. Just let go a little." With that, he leaned back in his chair and turned off the fire. "Bloody hell, it's fucking boiling in here."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "God, I know."

Ron looked somewhat taken-aback at her lack of reprimand for his swearing, yet decided to let her be. He noticed that Hermione had finished her glass of Firewhiskey and yet made no move to go up to bed.

The rational part of him could tell that she wanted to remain with him, wanted to stay by his side rather than go up to bed alone. Yet the scared teenage boy he had been in his fourth year kept re-emerging. Surely, _surely, _Hermione didn't want him. She'd had Viktor Krum, for God's sake, why on earth would she want anything at all to do with him, Ron Weasley, one-time Quidditch hero, compared to the internationally-famous Seeker?

Yet here she was, in front of him, in her jeans and her vest top looking utterly perfect in every way. Her hair tumbled free around her shoulders, all wild curls and uninhibited messiness. He loved it when Hermione looked like this, he always had. Quickly, before he lost his nerve, he reached out his arm to touch her hair softly. She turned around instantly, catching his hand in her much smaller one.

"What are you doing?" She hadn't meant to sound that harsh, not at all, and cringed automatically. Ron recoiled almost instantly. "No, Ron, I didn't mean it like that- of course you can touch my hair. Sorry,"

He smiled at her and instead leaned back in his chair as she looked up at him once more, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

"Woah, Hermione- what's wrong?" he set his glass down and leaned forward to put his arms around her somewhat awkwardly.

"I don't know, I don't know," she sobbed hopelessly, attempting to wipe her tears away.

Sick of his uncomfortable position, Ron placed his arms around Hermione's waist and almost hoisted her onto his lap, cradling her against his chest.

Hermione almost automatically stiffened, looking up into Ron's face with what could be described as trepidation, the tears still rolling down her rather flushed cheeks.

He smiled. "See? All better now."

She laughed at his childish reassurances. "Bloody hell, I'm scared, Ron."

"So am I, sweetheart," he told her, surprised at his own honesty. In fact, he had been fully intending to alter the truth a little, and instead fake bravery. He was a fucking Gryffindor, wasn't he? He was meant to take care of her, to be her protector. But he wasn't naive- he knew he would have to accept his own weaknesses, and he also knew that what Hermione did not want was someone looking after her.

She hugged him tighter, her head resting on his shoulder.

Neither of them knew how long they had stayed like that, and when Ron stood up, setting Hermione on her feet, they were both surprised to see the time was well after two o'clock.

The room was cold when Hermione extinguished the fire, and they both quickly put their cardigans back on as they set about collecting glasses and straightening glasses. Both knew it would have been easier to use their wands and simply put the room back to normal, but tidying up the Muggle way meant they spent more time together, and also delayed that awkward moment where they would have to part on Ginny's landing, something neither of them was looking forward to.

Finally, the room was completely tidy and Ron looked at his friend. "We should probably go to bed, Hermione... it's almost three, you know."

"Yeah, let's..." Hermione picked up her things and made her way towards the staircase, heading up the narrow stairwell towards her and Ginny's bedroom.

Ron followed close behind, trying to stop his eyes drifting southward towards Hermione's bottom, and instead focus on her wild mess of tangled curls, a safe area that wouldn't end in awkward consequences.

Hermione stopped abruptly outside the door to Ginny's room, leaning against it and looking up to Ron with wider-than-usual eyes. He was tempted to take a step back, as the small surroundings had forced them into rather close proximity with one another, but decided against it- he wouldn't want Hermione to think that he didn't want to stand near her. It did make for an awkward situation though, especially with Hermione's chest heaving with her shallow breaths, brought on by her obvious nervousness.

He looked away from her breasts and back to her chocolate-brown eyes, searching for something within them that could provide him with a clue, a small hint at least, that she felt the same way as he did. Their kiss the other night was almost proof... but he could hardly take Hermione at her word for anything she said at the moment- she was an emotional wreck, he only had to think of her tears from before.

Slowly, surely, Hermione reached for the door knob, disappointed at the lack of action on Ron's part. "Well, goodnight, Ron," she smiled timidly, and turned the knob a little.

Almost as quickly as if touching something hot, Ron reached forward and covered her hand with his own. Once there, he faltered, looking for a reason to have touched her in the first place. "Oh, I'm sorry... just be careful you don't wake Ginny."

Hermione gave him a knowing smile, and reached up, tiptoeing in order to give him an intimate hug. He was grateful for the contact and reciprocated, his arms wrapping around her waist, marvelling at the tiny feel of her in his gradually-growing arms.

They broke apart, reluctantly, and her arms remained around his neck, the pressure on the tips of her toes relieved by his strong support. They were incredibly close. Too close. Her eyes really were beautiful this close up, he thought. So many more colours than he could see at a normal distance. If he just ducked his head a bit lower-

A floorboard creaked overhead. Ron didn't have a clue who it was- it could be any member of his family, he supposed, even Harry, waking to see Ron was missing. Whoever it was, though, he cursed them whole-heartedly. They had just messed up what was only his second chance with Hermione, a chance he had waited seven years for.

**Thank you for reading! Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger again, but I can't help but think this is how it would have happened for Ron and Hermione. Reading Deathly Hallows, I see the signs and signals from both characters that suggest they had already begun a relationship, or had at least exchanged their feelings for one another. However, it does seem like they never quite had the chance to become an official couple, or else surely Ron would not have had the insecurities that forced him to leave? I would be really interested to hear others' views on this subject, and whether or not you agree with my version of events. Thanks once again, and I will try and personally reply to each review but bear with me- I have about one thousand exams this month so I am one busy girl! **

**_SkinnyAnkles_  
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